


how to get the angel

by mehrto, smolalienbee



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adam is only briefly mentioned, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale and Crowley Share a Brain Cell (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Eventual Relationships, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Includes visual art, Inspired by Art, Inspired by Music, M/M, Modern Era, Musician Crowley (Good Omens), Musician Eve (Good Omens), One Shot, Other, Pining, Queerplatonic Relationships, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Wooing, ace friendly, also eve and crowley are making music together, eve and crowley are flatmates and sort of kinda in a queerplatonic relationship because i said so, just gays being queers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehrto/pseuds/mehrto, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolalienbee/pseuds/smolalienbee
Summary: A while ago, Crowley had been rescued by an angel. Crowley had also befriended that angel and- well, he had fallen in love with him. The problem is, the angel had pulled away from him. But, with a little help from his best friend/flatmate/companion surely he can figure out how to get him back?In other words, a music-inspired human university AU in which Crowley and Eve are flatmates and Crowley's trying to woo Aziraphale.
Relationships: Adam from Eden & Aziraphale & Crowley & Eve (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Eve (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	how to get the angel

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is Bee and first of all I have to say that I blame this whole thing on mehrto. She introduced me to Ivy Sole's album Eden (listen to it, y'all!) and... then we went feral a created a whole ass human AU based on the music from it. It happens! Anyway, I (hi, it's bee) wrote the thing while she made amazing illustrations that I will forever cry about. Huge thanks to Bucky (MovesLikeBucky) for beta-ing and advice, and also the feral server (y'all know who you are) for putting up with me yelling a lot and sharing far too many snippets. Hope you enjoy!

“Hey- hey. Hey- Crowley!”

A light smack on his arm pulls him out of his thoughts, his gaze darting away from the angel sitting on the other side of the dingy little pub they’re in. When he looks to his side, he sees Eve, raising an eyebrow at him as she slides into the stool next to his.

It’s after the performance, now, and they’re both settled at the bar, Crowley’s keyboard tucked away safely in its case and propped up against his stool. Eve had left him for just a moment, but it had been more than enough for his thoughts (and his gaze) to drift away, towards a familiar flock of blonde hair. It wasn’t that he was staring, not at all, it was just that the angel didn’t fit in there and-

“You bloody serpent, are you even listening to me?”

“Hm?”

Eve sighs, shaking her head as she reaches for Crowley’s glass. He opens his mouth to protest, but she’s already thrown her head back and downed the rest of his drink before he even had the chance to say anything. He huffs, rolling his eyes at her.

“That was uncalled for, y’know,” he mutters. She shoots him a knowing smirk before putting the glass down on the counter.

“So. You’ve been ogling your angel again, haven’t you?”

“It’s not like that-”

She raises her eyebrows and he lets out a long breath. 

“Fine. Yeah. Maybe. So what if I have?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should go up to him. Do your thing-” she leans in closer, her tone turning into a conspiratorial whisper, “-tempt him.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Eve. Really.”

“I’m serious!” 

Crowley gives the bartender a tight smile as he’s handed a new drink. He takes a long sip, letting the whiskey burn down his throat before he says anything.

“I know you are. But it’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“You know why! I can’t just- he- er- ugh! Maybe I should start pestering you about /your/ boy, then, huh?”

They laugh and bicker their way through the rest of the evening. If the angel had looked towards them, they wouldn’t have even noticed, too preoccupied, too drunk, too carefree.

* * *

The first time Crowley had seen Eve was the day he had gotten kicked out of his home. The first day of the rest of his life, the day his entire life had been turned upside down. 

Or so he thought, at the time, a 20 year old thing, curious and eager to get in trouble

He was already tipsy when he stumbled into a park, a bottle of cider in hand. She had a brilliant smile and when he approached her, she immediately accepted the bottle, popped it open and took a swig out of it. They were complete strangers back then, and she had been so reckless and so beautiful and perhaps that was why he had felt so drawn to her. They laid in the grass and shared the bottle until they were giggling drunkenly, trading stories of absent parents and crushes and dreams and memories. 

They had gotten kicked out of that same park by an annoyed officer, stomping his feet as he approached these not-kids, not-yet-adults. By the time they had left their Eden, they were breathless and cold and still laughing. 

She had offered him a place on her couch in a tiny flat she shared with several other uni students. 

That was the start. That was a long time ago. 

(Well, it felt like a lifetime to Crowley, but it must’ve been maybe a few years since then. A lot has changed though, and Crowley is more than happy to bury the past deep in the ground)

These days, they’ve worked their way up to a small flat of their own. It’s not much and their days are often filled with curses directed at broken heating, broken sinks, broken- the list goes on. They have an atrocious sofa that they bought second-hand and as horrible as it all sounds... It’s theirs, their own Heaven in the middle of a busy city1. Their only other roommate happens to be a rat living somewhere in their walls, a scrappy thing that Crowley has affectionately nicknamed Snake, much to Eve’s amusement. 

They spend their days juggling uni classes, multiple jobs, making music, getting drunk, dancing with each other or, on occasion, with Crowley’s many plants that fill the floor in front of the giant living room window. It’s a peaceful existence for two troubled souls like theirs. They gossip and complain and cry and fight and make up. They learn each other’s habits, each other’s differences and similarities and they become such integral parts of one another’s lives that they cannot imagine being anywhere else. 

It’s difficult and easy and better than anything they had ever hoped for. 

* * *

It was a year after meeting Eve that Crowley had been rescued by an angel.

Perhaps rescued was an exaggeration. The angel part though, _that_ Crowley would always insist on being true. After all, Aziraphale, with his blonde halo-like hair, the beige jumpers, the sweet smile, even his name, for someone’s sake, he must have been an angel. He nearly glowed when he approached Crowley that night. 

It was late and Crowley was standing outside the university’s main entrance, his back against the wall. He exhaled smoke and sighed as he glared at the rain pounding down hard in front of him. He was slowly running out of cigs and the rain wasn’t letting up at all, he knew it was just a matter of time before he’d have to move from his spot under the tiny roof protecting him from the water. He shivered, putting the cigarette out against a wall before tossing it into a nearby bin. He took a step forward, bracing himself for the rain, but then, to his surprise, none came. He tilted his head back, raising his eyebrows at the realization that a rainbow hung above him, an umbrella shielding him from the rain. To his left, the angel.

“Hello,” said the angel, a small wave of his free hand. 

“I- er- um-” responded Crowley adequately2.

Time stretched on as they stood there, looking at one another, the umbrella casting rainbow shadows on both of them. Crowley cleared his throat and then decided to give talking another try.

“Uh- thanks.”

The angel smiled and Crowley was quite certain the clouds parted when he did, illuminated and threatened by his glow. Crowley was no poet, but he’d happily write poems about that smile.

“It’s no problem, dear boy. I’d hate to see anyone getting drenched in this rain.”

They walked together then, silent at first under the onslaught of the rain. It wasn’t often that Crowley found himself so tongue tied3, but this time he was at a loss. He didn’t even have it in himself to let the angel know where he was going, to make sure they wouldn’t have to part ways soon. It was only when they reached the street that he spoke up again.

“I don’t live far from here- I- er-”

“Oh, but of course, I can walk you there, if you’d like.”

Crowley opened his mouth then closed it then repeated that notion a few more times. It took quite a moment before he managed to shake his head, raising his arms up.

“No, no, no, you don’t have to, really, I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way-”

“Dear, it’s really no-”

“No!” Crowley took a step back, at the edge of the rainbow now and- really, why was he getting so defensive? He could just accept the angel’s kindness, he could just carry on as if he wasn’t completely overwhelmed by this warmth and the glow and-

His thoughts stopped as soon as they started when he realized soft, plump fingers were wrapped around his own bony hand. He was holding the umbrella now and the angel’s hand covered his own, squeezing firmly as if to make sure he wouldn’t let go.

“Keep it, dear.”

“But- I- what?”

“Oh, well, it’s just-” the angel’s hands were withdrawing, his fingers moving in anxious patterns, twisting and rubbing and tugging at his own sleeves, “I have another one, a few of them, really, and I live very close, as well and- oh, I just adore the feeling of rain on my skin, so, please, take it and I’ll be on my way, now- mind how you go!”

He was backing off as he rambled, step after step, another awkward wave of his hand before he turned around and skittered off in another direction. Crowley stood there, on the sidewalk, hand and heart warmed by the angel, the rainbow still above him.

It took a month before he learned about all the lies the angel had told him during their first meeting. Before he learned that no, Aziraphale did not live anywhere near campus nor did he like the rain much.

But, he did, in fact, own at least four other umbrellas.

* * *

“You know, you never told me what exactly happened between the two of you.”

Crowley tears his gaze away from his shoes and squints at Eve.

“What?” he staggers closer to her, a hand grasping her shoulder to help him stay upright. He shivers, the cold night air seeping right through his skin. He never did like the cold much. 

“You and- and the angel, Crowley,” Eve responds, wrapping an arm around his waist. He sighs, leaning into her, both for balance and the warmth.

“‘Ssssiraphale?” he slurs and then lets out a breathless chuckle, “Yeah, well. ‘S not much to talk about.”

“Oh, just spill it, you snake. We both know something happened! You two were pretty buddy buddy at first and then-” she waves her arm in front of her, “C’mon. Talk.”

Crowley narrows his eyes at her. She bumps her hip into him, both of them stumbling to the side before continuing on forward, towards their flat. He sighs, quite aware that there isn’t much he can hide from her. Hell, hiding things from her usually results in more meddling than if he just told her truth. And the last thing he wants is for her to meddle with this. 

“I dunno,” he mutters, finally, not looking at her as he speaks, “We were- it was- things were fine. Between us. Until- until they weren’t. I don’t really know what happened, though, is the bloody issue.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know what happened?”

“Exactly what I said! It’s just- er- ugh-” 

Crowley suddenly stops walking. He brings a hand up to rub at his forehead while Eve slowly pulls away from him. She crosses her arms, but her expression remains gentle, if only a bit amused. Crowley shakes his head, taking a step to the side so that he can lean his back against a nearby wall.

“He just suddenly pulled away. For no obvious reason. Like- hell, I’m pretty sure he was flirting with me, at some point, until he just- wasn’t. Until he suddenly got real weird and- I don’t know. Trust me, I’ve been trying to figure it out for ages and I just… got nothing.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“Uhh- no?”

Eve barely resists the urge to roll her eyes, though she does break into a small laugh, leaning forward until their foreheads are practically touching. She cups Crowley’s face with both of her hands. He blinks at her owlishly, but keeps his mouth shut.

“You absolute moron,” she huffs, smiling at him, “You need to go and talk to him. Seriously.”

“But-”

“No, no. You listen to me, now. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You two are already keeping away from each other, the only way from here is up. So. Talk to him.”

Crowley wants to protest. He wants to kick and push and fight, but- he sighs, tipping his head forward until their foreheads are pressed together. He closes his eyes and hums softly.

“Yeah. ‘kay. You’re right.”

She breaks into a radiant smile and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling away completely.

“Well, glad we’re on the same page, then,” she reaches for his hand and starts walking again, tugging him just a step behind her, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you figure out a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Yeah, Crowley. A plan. With tiny flashcards and all, so that if you get choked up you can just shove them at him.”

Crowley opens his mouth, but then instead of saying anything, he just lets out a long breath which soon enough turns into a genuine laughter, interrupted only by drunken hiccups.

“Thanks, Eve.”

* * *

It only takes a few days of planning, drinking and more planning before plan number one is being kicked into action. Casual approach, as Eve called it. Just saunter over to him and try to start a conversation, see how it goes. Easy enough, right?

In his search for Aziraphale, Crowley heads to the library, the angel’s natural habitat. If he’s hoping to find him, this is surely the best place for it. And he can make it seem casual, too!4 He wanders between the bookshelves, pretending to look for something when really, he’s waiting for Aziraphale to show up. It doesn’t take long before he spots a familiar face, carrying a high stack of books to one of the tables. There! The angel. Of course, Crowley knows better than to approach immediately. Make it casual, dammit.

He watches from afar as Aziraphale settles at the table. He spreads the books in front of him, wiggles in the chair, pushes his little glasses up the bridge of his nose. He gently brushes his fingers over the pages, tuning out the rest of the library as he focuses on the words in front of him.

Crowley breathes in deeply and then moves forward. He slides into the seat next to Aziraphale and immediately sprawls his limbs out. Aziraphale jumps at the sudden movement, a hand flying up to his chest. Crowley’s doing his best to make it seem like he hasn’t realized he’s been noticed. He switches between checking his phone and looking around the library, too nervous to grace Aziraphale with even a brief glance. 

He isn’t sure how to start a conversation. 

The approaching part was easy enough, sure. All he had to do was slide into the chair, right next to Aziraphale. He can do that. But he can’t actually bring himself to say anything. He has to say something, he knows Aziraphale has noticed him, the reflection of the angel on the screen of his phone is clearer than ever. He tries, a couple of times, opens his mouth, but then just lets out soft sighs instead of producing any words. He tightens his grip on his phone, tries to brace himself to finally do it, to Hell with it-

Aziraphale slams the book shut. 

Crowley nearly falls out of his chair, his eyes immediately darting over to him. Before he has a chance to say anything, Aziraphale is already standing up, books pressed close to his chest. He doesn’t even look back at him as he leaves.

Crowley groans loudly and his forehead hits the table with a soft thud. Well, that went well.

* * *

A rainbow umbrella stares at Crowley from across the room.

“Eve, this is a terrible idea.”

Soft keyboard music flows through the room. Eve’s sitting in front of the instrument while Crowley hunches over the coffee table, holding a pen in his left hand and rubbing at his forehead with his right. He’s squinting at the paper and his own terrible handwriting, words crossed off and rewritten multiple times. He huffs, dropping the pen before reaching for the page. He crumples it into a ball and tosses it across the room so that it hits Eve’s side. The music suddenly stops as she pulls her hands back and rolls her eyes before bending down to pick up the ball and toss it back to him.

“Well, do you wanna try talking to him again? Because we both know how well that went last time.”

She shuffles on the stool so that she’s facing him, arms crossed on top of her chest. 

“Well- I- er- oh, shuddup! That wasn’t my fault!”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, dumbass,” with a sigh, she stands up and crosses the room so that she can join Crowley on the sofa, “What’s the issue now, Romeo?”

“I can’t write, that’s the issue.”

She gives him a doubtful look, “You? Can’t write? So I guess you hired someone to write our lyrics? Is that what happened?”

“I can write _lyrics_. I can’t write… letters. Who even writes letters, these days, it’s the bloody 21st century! People don’t write letters!”

“ _You_ are writing a letter, Crowley. He likes the written word, right? So this is perfect! And-” she picks up the pen, hands it over to Crowley, then places a new sheet of paper in front of him, “You can write lyrics, yes? So just do that. I believe in you.”

He looks at her for a while before sighing heavily as he leans down to give it one more try.

* * *

_Angel,_

_~~I’m lost without you.~~ It’s been too long since we last talked. I know you probably don’t even want to see me and ~~that’s fine, I’m used to people leaving me~~ I get it, I do, but I just want you to know that you still mean a lot to me. I feel like I’m lost without you and I was afraid to admit it, before, but now I know that my ~~heart~~ home is where you are. _

_~~This is I’m~~ This is probably too much. Let me know if you want me to ~~fuck off~~ stop bothering you._

~~_With love,_ ~~

_C_

* * *

A week. 

It’s been a week and Aziraphale hasn’t responded. And it had all gone so well, Crowley had thought! He had slipped the letter into one of the angel’s books, he must’ve seen it! Aziraphale went through his books so thoroughly, he couldn’t have missed. 

“Crowley, doesn’t he regularly leave untouched mugs of cocoa all around him?”

Crowley groans from where he’s sprawled all over the sofa, face buried in a cushion. It’s not enough of a noise to be English, more so a unique sort of language that only frustrated and embarrassed Crowleys speak during their moodiest of days. Eve’s rather familiar with it.

“Oh, stop moping. All I’m saying is that he probably hasn’t even noticed.”

Another grumble answers her. She comes closer and pats his head gently.

“Up, you big baby,” she orders him softly. He makes more noises, but complies easily, lifting his head a bit. She sits down in that spot and smiles as Crowley settles down, this time with his head in her lap. She gently cards her fingers through his hair.

“You’re only getting tonight to mope, got it? Then we’ll come up with something else. More direct than letters, that’s for sure. I’m not letting you two give up on each other, yeah? Not under my watch.”

* * *

Plan number three - flowers.

 _“It’s too much!”_ Crowley had protested when Eve suggested it. _“He won’t be able to ignore you, though,”_ she had argued. That’s how Crowley found himself holding a ridiculously oversized bouquet of flowers, all of them in various shadows of blue and white, topped with a beige bow. He had specifically refused to actually look up any languages of flowers as surely that would come off as just a tad too desperate (though that hadn’t stopped him from also getting a box of rather expensive chocolates5).

He sighs, glancing at his phone to check the time. He’s currently seated on campus, near the main gate. Where they met. It’s a Friday and so he knows Aziraphale should be finishing his classes for the day soon. 

This is ridiculous, he thinks to himself. There is no way Aziraphale will appreciate this- in fact, he will probably just be annoyed. That’s it. He’ll just scare him further away than he already has and- Crowley stands up, half convinced already that he should leave, but as he moves he notices him. Aziraphale is standing a few steps away from him. He was clearly heading for the gate, but stopped when he noticed Crowley there. 

Crowley wants to run.

“H- hey!” he says instead, forces the word out of his throat before the panic completely overtakes him. “I-” he glances between Aziraphale and the flowers. He takes a step towards him, hesitating once more before holding the bouquet out towards him, practically shoving it at his chest.

“This- it’s- for you.”

Aziraphale blinks. Once. Twice.

“AAA-CHOOOO!”

This time it’s Crowley’s turn to blink. Aziraphale lifts his hands and gently nudges the flowers away, as far away from himself as he can.

“I’m sorry, dear, but-” he cuts himself off with yet another sneeze. He opens his mouth to try once more, but several sneezes escape him, one after another and he shakes his head.

“Wha-” 

“Oh goodness- achoo! I should- ah, I should go now!” 

He’s already stepping away and turning to leave. Crowley, still dumbfounded by the whole situation, follows him with his gaze, but says nothing. It takes him quite a moment to connect the dots and he groans loudly. By that point, Aziraphale’s already on the sidewalk and walking, further and further away. Crowley, in a sudden fit of frustration (mostly with himself and the pesky flowers), turns around. He tosses the flowers into the nearest bin before he rushes forward to catch up with him.

“Angel! Wait!”

Aziraphale glances over his shoulder, but doesn’t stop walking. He sniffles softly and Crowley hurriedly digs in his pocket. Once he manages to dig out a pack of tissues, he hurries so that he can stand in front of Aziraphale. This time, instead of a bouquet, it’s the tissues that he offers him.

“Here,” he says softly. “And- sorry about that- I- just-”

“Oh, dear boy…”

Crowley doesn’t look at him. He waits until Aziraphale takes the tissues from him, then shoves his hand into his pocket. The other arm hangs uselessly at his side, fingers wrapped around the box of chocolates. He waits until Aziraphale has finished blowing his nose before he speaks.

“I- um. I also got you chocolates. Your favourites. Or- they used to be your favourites, at least.”

He holds the box out, not quite meeting Aziraphale’s eyes as he does so. A moment passes before Aziraphale finally takes it from him. 

“You didn’t have to…”

“I know, but- I didn’t know how else to talk to you. I- bugger it all, this is so embarrassing. I wrote you a letter, but you never responded.”

“I’m… not sure I understand, dear. A letter?”

“Yes! I think- Hamlet, I think. I slipped it into Hamlet, when you were taking it out of the library.”6

“Goodness, I didn’t even notice… and this entire time, you wanted to talk to me?”

Crowley finally lifts his gaze. He’s glad his sunglasses are in the way, making it far easier to hide his expression, hide how vulnerable he feels like this.

“Of course I did! I- I never wanted to _stop_ talking to you, angel.”

To his surprise, Aziraphale looks genuinely taken aback by his words. Crowley frowns, “What? Why are you looking at me like that, I thought you knew-”

“Good Lord- and here I was, rather convinced that I was making you uncomfortable, that you wanted me to… Crowley, I thought _you_ didn’t want me to talk to you anymore. I thought that, perhaps, I’ve come off too strong- you always did look so flustered whenever I complimented you…”

The baton of confusion is once again passed between them as Crowley gapes wordlessly at Aziraphale. 

“Come off too strong? Angel! I like the compliments! I like- I like you! That’s the bloody point, that I like you and you don’t li-

“Oh, but I do!” Aziraphale moves forward and takes one of Crowely’s hands into his. “I like you very much, my dear!”

“Ngk.”

“We’ve misunderstood each other terribly, haven’t we…”

Crowley nods slowly, his eyes firmly locked on their hands. His skin tingles where they’re touching and it feels so good, far too good to be true. But he’s willing to cling to this dream for a little while longer, if it means Aziraphale will hold his hand like this. 

“What about if I buy you lunch?” he offers suddenly, looking up at him.

“Right now?”

“Yeah! I mean- only if you’re not busy?”

“Oh, I could never be too busy for you, darling.

Crowley’s quite certain his entire face is now the color of his hair, flaming bright red. He grunts softly, tilting it away to try and hide the blush.

“Angel! That’s just playing dirty, you bastard! ‘S unfair. Terribly unfair.”

He’s rewarded with the angel’s laughter and that’s enough for him to crack a smile, as well, the tension finally escaping from his body.

“Come on, then. Let’s go get lunch.”

* * *

The next months pass by quickly. Before they know it, summer is there and it’s filled with their laughter and drinks and too many cakes to count. Crowley and Aziraphale are closer than ever, now, nearly inseparable. It’s rocky at first, as every blooming relationship is, but they soon learn how to fit their puzzle pieces together. It helps that Eve’s always there as well, her and Adam7, and they’re more than happy to nudge at their friends if needed. 

On summer nights, they often find themselves on the floor of Crowley and Eve’s flat, drinking and talking until the early morning, until they’re too tired and sleep in a heap of bodies, right there on the floor. On one of such memorable occasions, a bread rule is put into use, a rule that sees them passing around a baguette, only allowing the holder of the bread to speak8.

Tonight is another memorable night. This time, it’s just the three of them, Eve, Crowley and Adam, huddled together over a notebook. They’re bickering, talking over each other, a pen passed around between the three of them as they try to write.

“Eve- what are you talking about, I’m not gonna be singing about my tits to him!”

“Why not? Do you have any better ideas?”

“Yeah, actually, I do! Just- give me the bloody pen, you menace.”

They continue like that for a while until the page is filled with flowing words, their unique handwritings mixed together to create something that they (at least drunkenly) deem cohesive enough. It’s only then that they finally gather themselves together and stumble out into the outside world. They’re well prepared now, with music recorded the day before (sober) and the lyrics written on a crumpled sheet of paper (drunk). It’s truly fortunate that they live fairly close to Aziraphale’s place, close enough that they can make their way there on foot. 

By the time they reach Aziraphale’s building, it’s deep into the night. They find a perfect spot underneath his window, which, of course, is illuminated from the inside. That surprises none of them, as they all know how much of a night owl Aziraphale is. There’s some more bickering as Eve and Crowley fight over Eve’s phone while Adam’s busy taking pictures of them. Eventually, finally, a text is sent out, a simple message ( _angel look outside!_ ), and then the music starts. 

The window opens right as Crowley begins to sing, _“Just wanna invite you into the places no one else has been, the spaces no one else can find.”_ He’s slightly off-key, but he’s still smiling wide, looking up at his angel who’s leaning against the windowsill. Behind Crowley, stands Eve, holding a small speaker up and swaying along with the music. 

_“I just wanna be enough, to be deserving of your love.”_

Aziraphale seems amused by the whole ordeal, but the longer Crowley keeps on going, the more his expression softens, his smile and his eyes full of the fondness that he holds for the man standing under his window. He rests his chin in his hand and watches the show below him, breaking into a wider smile when Crowley winks at him. 

_“If I wait until you’re ready, I can be the one if you let me.”_

As the song comes to a close, Crowley turns towards Eve and quickly gestures for her to come closer. She raises her eyebrows, but immediately passes the phone over to Adam before approaching her flatmate. There’s a brief moment when they’re talking in hushed voices before Eve breaks into a grin. Aziraphale’s not entirely sure what’s happening until he sees Crowley climbing onto her back and then Eve’s stumbling her way closer to the window until Crowley’s face is right in front of Aziraphale.

“Hey there, gorgeous. You come here often?”

“Oh, you ridiculous man,” Aziraphale laughs in response and he doesn’t stop laughing as Crowley reaches for him. 

Crowley wiggles his eyebrows. “May I kiss you, my angel?” he asks, already reaching for him and leaning in closer. Aziraphale hums in affirmation, closing the remaining distance between them until their lips are pressed together, noses clumsily knocking against one another. They don’t stop, even as they hear Adam yelling “Cheese!” from somewhere behind them.

Years later, they will smile at each other as they hang that picture on the wall in their new house, next to the many other memories they’ve made together.

1 \- Crowley would also argue that anything was better than a flat filled with five other loud arseholes which was their previous living predicament.

2 \- In his defense, it sounded far better in his head.

3 \- Years later Crowley realized just how much of a lie that was. Especially when he was around Aziraphale - just his presence was enough for Crowley to lose any remaining words he previously thought he had.

4 \- The truth is that he can't. At least not to Aziraphale, who's well aware that Crowley rarely visits the library on his own. He much prefers listening to audiobooks while caring for his plants.

5 \- If asked, he’d argue that he knows Aziraphale likes these chocolates, so of course he had to get them for him. And no, it wasn't because he particularly enjoyed spoiling him.

6 \- Unbeknownst to them, the letter was eventually discovered by another student. It's quite possible that it also helped that student get together with their crush.

7 \- The same Adam that Crowley had relentlessly teased her about months ago, until one day he was surprised to find the two of them spooning on their sofa. Since then, Adam has been a frequent guest at their place.

8 \- Crowley told them that’s how the French organize democratically and they decided to honor the tradition (none of them are French).

**Author's Note:**

> All art made by mehrto! Find her on [tumblr](https://mehrto.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/itsmehrto)
> 
> The lyrics that Crowley sings at the end of the fic are from Ivy Sole's Enough. Parts of Crowley's letter are inspired by Ivy Sole's Lost Without You (as I said before, just listen to that entire album).


End file.
